


Just Give Me One Fine Day of Plain Sailing Weather

by szm



Series: Tainted Love [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 13:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4878256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/szm/pseuds/szm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy gets angry at Matt. Matt feels terrible and he always did. Frank doesn't know why he's even in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Give Me One Fine Day of Plain Sailing Weather

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "Plain Sailing Weather" by Frank Turner
> 
>  
> 
> _"Just give me one fine day of plain sailing weather_  
>  And I can fuck up anything, anything.  
> It was a wonderful life when we were together,  
> And now I've fucked up every little goddamn thing.
> 
>  
> 
> _Amelie lied to me, this was supposed to be easy._  
>  I found the one damn person to help me fall asleep in the night.  
> But sleeping gets tiring, and dark reminds me of dying,  
> And as long as this feeble heart is still beating,  
> You will find me rushing through every room, switching on all the lights."

_“Keep it down, Murdock. Get in here. There is such a thing as neighbours.”_

Matt stepped through the doorway as Frank stepped back. He knew what had happened here, he could smell Foggy on the other man. He didn’t have any right to jealously in this situation, he knew that, he _knew_ that, it didn’t mean that he didn’t feel it. He was tense, pressure across his shoulders and down his arms with the effort of not punching Frank. His own heartbeat was loud in his ears, fear and jealously rising up in Matt’s belly. He’d been wrapping up a patrol when he’s smelt Foggy’s blood, found a knife with _Foggy’s blood_ in an alley that smelt of fear and the sweet, alcohol smell of the gun oil Frank favoured. Matt knew how much he loved Foggy, but he was completely unprepared for the panic that hit him at the idea that Foggy might be hurt. Not to mention the visceral jealousy that _Frank_ had been there to help Foggy and not Matt. He knew it wasn’t right of fair to either of the other men, not when everything about this situation was Matt’s own doing.

“What are you doing here?” asked Frank and Matt couldn’t hold back the snort.

“I’d ask you the same thing but I know exactly what you’re doing here,” sneered Matt. He didn’t like the feeling burning in his chest pushing him to snap and bear his teeth.

“That would make one of us,” muttered Frank. He turned his head away like he couldn’t bring himself to look at Matt and oddly that just made Matt angrier.

“What _are_ you doing here, Matt?” asked Foggy, walking into the room.

Matt couldn’t talk for a moment, if felt like a lifetime but was probably only a few seconds, Foggy was right there. Heartbeat steady, breathing normal, there was a lingering scent of blood under the smell of gun oil and sweat-sex-Frank. But Foggy was okay. Foggy was alive and well and not seriously hurt. He hardly smelt of Matt at all. Because Foggy didn’t touch him anymore and Matt wasn’t allowed, but somehow Frank Castle was. Frank Castle who killed people and didn’t care. Frank Castle who Matt had sex with because… because… Matt was a self-destructive idiot who didn’t let himself have good things.

“I found a knife,” said Matt nearly choking on the swirl of emotion rising in his throat. “It had your blood on it. It had to see if you were alright.”

“You could have worked that out from my heartbeat. And you can hear that from a block away,” said Foggy coldly. He was standing a few feet away, it felt like miles. “You didn’t need to come here. I asked you not to.”

Matt was angry at Foggy, not fair, not even a little bit okay, but he was and Matt had issues with dealing with anger at the best of times. “So you’re fucking Castle now?”

Foggy’s heartbeat rises but only slightly, he’s blushing, Matt can sense the change in temperature even from this distance. But it’s anger not embarrassment. “Just doing what I’ve always done, Murdock. Following your lead, and like always it fucks up my life and makes everything worse.”

The Punisher is uncomfortable, and Matt meanly revels in the fact that Frank’s not spared Foggy’s attack. People always did make the mistake of thinking that Foggy was the nice one. Matt felt a little sharp spark of joy in his heart. It hurt and that felt wonderful. Foggy wasn’t just kicking him out, Foggy was fighting. Foggy was giving Matt attention, and Matt loved that, even as he hated the fact it was the wrong kind. He pushed it further. “So your trading up from a vigilante to a _murdering_ vigilante? The thought of me maybe killing someone wasn’t enough? You needed to fuck someone who has actually killed before?” Matt can still make Foggy’s heartbeat race, that shouldn’t feel so good. 

“Were you trying to stop him?” asked Foggy, his voice all sharp edges meant to wound. That awful mean little part of Matt’s heart loved it. “Was your great plan to get on your knees every time he got a homicidal urge? Whoring yourself out to save a life, never mind that I was _waiting_ for you? Never mind that I _trusted_ you? Although god knows you never trusted me a day in the whole time we’ve known each other.”

“I trust you,” said Matt, his anger leaving him suddenly and he’s unsteady now, reeling, but Foggy is still angry and still swinging and Foggy is vicious when he’s hurting. 

“You lied to me. I forgave you. Then you lied again. Frank never lied to me, it may not seem like much to you, seeing as you’ve been living in your lies for so long I don’t think you can even tell what the truth is any more, but he never made me promises he couldn’t keep. He didn’t hurt me so badly I had trouble _breathing_. That was you,” Foggy took a step forward as he spoke, Matt took a step back. He shook his head and willed the hot press of tears to stay behind his eyes.

Frank stepped in-between them. “Stop,” he said forcefully. “You two want to take lumps out of each other then fine, but leave me out of it.”

“I told you we were adorable,” said Foggy harshly. “Both of you get the hell out. And Matt, I’m taking a sick day. I got stabbed.” Foggy turned on his heel and stormed out. Matt heard a tap running and Foggy’s shuddery exhale as he splashed water on his face. He took a step forwards but Frank caught his arm. 

“Leave him be,” said Frank, concern etched into his voice. “You don’t want to do this now.”

“What do you care?” snapped Matt pulling away. “I wish I’d never even met you.”

“You probably would have been better off,” agreed Frank.

Matt left without saying anything. He knew it wasn’t true. He would have fucked this up somehow even without Frank. He always did.

**

**Nearly ten months earlier**

“You can’t kill him,” snarled Daredevil, standing between the huddled body of a particularly nasty drug dealer and the Punisher.

“I really can,” said the Punisher, gun pointed at the floor but still in his hand, still loaded, still ready.

“I won’t let you,” said Daredevil.

“Stop me, choirboy,” snorted the Punisher.

Matt lashed out quickly knocking the gun out of the larger man’s hand with a kick and hearing the gun scrap across the floor, safely away from everyone involved.

“You really want to fight me on this?” asked the Punisher, dropping into a fighting stance. “You know what he’s done. You think sending him to prison will stop him? A year, two years, five years, he’ll be back out of prison doing this all again.”

“I’m not going to let you just kill him,” argued Daredevil. He smirked. “Besides, the police will be here in a minute.”

Punisher looked confused then swore as the sirens got close enough for him to hear as well. He ran and Matt climbed a nearby fire escape watching to make sure the police collected the drug dealer without problem.

He ran into the Punisher again a few hours later, on the rooftop where Matt was having one last listen to the city before heading home.

“Stay out of my way,” growled the Punisher.

“Stop trying to kill people,” countered Matt lightly. “I will stop you.”

“That a threat?” asked the Punisher.

“If you want,” said Matt carefully. “But honestly, I think if we worked together we’d have a better chance of stopping whoever is bringing in the drugs in the first place, rather than mopping up street level dealers. And I’m sick of having to keep an eye on you and do my job at the same time.”

“No dice,” said the Punisher gruffly. “Don’t think if you get in my way again I won’t kill you too.”

_Lie_ thought Matt to himself, listening to the older man’s heartbeat. “You won’t,” he said confidently. 

“What are to hanging that belief on?” asked the Punisher. “My cheery and generous nature?”

“No, just that you wouldn’t be able to beat me,” Matt said smirking and leaping off the building. He let the mumbled ‘cocky little bastard’ warm the cockles of his heart on the way home.

He told Foggy about the Punisher, and Foggy was worried and concerned and Matt loved him for it, he really did. It made him feel warm inside to know that Foggy cared and it was always fun listening to Foggy coming up with ever more creative insults for someone. But Foggy didn’t understand that it was like a game too. It wasn’t like Matt was justifying the murder or anything. But he couldn’t deny it was fun, beating the Punisher to the bad guys, swapping insults and fighting with someone who didn’t really want to hurt him, someone that Matt would really have to put some effort in to hurt. Someone else who understood that at least part of this chasing and fighting was like playing. He didn’t have words to explain that to Foggy. Foggy could be vicious with words, he was a lawyer and a good one, but he’d never understood the appeal of a physical fight. Foggy was better than that, and Matt didn’t want to be the one to drag him down.

It was two days later he ran into the Punisher again. A warehouse, just outside of Hell’s kitchen proper, the new drug ring was using it cut the heroin before moving it out onto the street. Matt was distracted by noticing the Punisher up in the roof space, heartbeat slowed and barely any movement, sniper position. Matt sighed to himself and made enough noise to distract the goons, they came rushing towards him, fouling the Punishers shot. However there were a lot of them and only one of Matt. He took a hit from a lead pipe to the back of the head. His helmet absorbed some of the impact (thanks Marvin) but not enough. He heard the Punisher swear and then he came to help. Matt had to really concentrate, there was a ringing in his ears and his sense of space and balance was off. But the goons were badly trained, with the Punishers help the fight was over quickly and soon there were groaning and unconscious men on the floor all around them.

“Stop, or I kill the boy,” said a voice from behind them.

Matt turned towards the sound, but his head was still ringing and all his senses were off. The man talking was heavy set, he smelt of cheap aftershave. There was the tang of blood in the air, he had a knife to _Foggy’s_ throat…

No, no, Matt shook his head to try and clear it. Not Foggy. He was younger than Foggy. His heartbeat was fast, panic, and fear. He was about 18, the same age Foggy had been when Matt first met him. He used the same apple scented shampoo, he was the same build. But not Foggy, not Foggy just a scared teenager, he was babbling in a language Matt didn’t know. Possibly Russian. Babbling like Foggy did when he was scared. Matt knew it wasn’t Foggy, but his mind kept overlaying Foggy into the scene and Matt couldn’t shake the panic that caused. His hand tightened on the stick in his hand. He tilted his head listening, stretching his senses past the ringing in his head. Past the illusion of Foggy.

“I’m walking out of here,” said the man, the Punisher growled. Matt hit the metal beam next to him, listening to the way the sound bounces around the room. “Put that down!” shouted the man. Matt smirked at the panic in his voice. The knife at the boys (not Foggy’s) throat bit in further and there was a fresh wave of the blood smell in the air as Matt threw the billy club, hitting the man in the side of the head. He lost his grip on the boy (not Foggy) and the Punisher was moving forward, pulling Foggy (no the boy) out of the way as Matt moved forward, driving a fist into the man’s stomach and pushing him backwards, against the wall. No chance of escape.

Matt hits him, again and again, he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t _want_ to. Then there are hands pulling him away and he swings for the person behind him…

“Daredevil! Stop!” shouted the Punisher and Matt snapped back to himself. He stepped away, finally registering the blood on his fists. He listened carefully for a second. The man is unconscious, not dead. 

“I… thank you,” said Matt, his voice sounds shaky.

“What the hell was that,” asked the Punisher. He’s still in fighting stance, still wary.

“The kid?” asked Matt, turning his head trying to find the boy. He can’t hear any distance over the ringing in his head and the sound of his own heartbeat. 

“He ran, can’t say I blame him,” said the Punisher.

“He… I thought he was someone I knew. Just for a minute, he was so like him,” Matt tried to explain. He stumbled and caught himself.

“You took a pretty bad blow to the head,” said Punisher slowly. “I have a safe house nearby?”

Matt nodded and tried to take a step forward but the room span and his knees buckled. The Punisher ducked under his arm and pulled him upright. He was warm and firm against Matt’s side and Matt let himself lean into that strength just for a moment, before shaking the larger man off and making himself walk under his own steam.

“Stubborn asshole,” muttered the Punisher.

Matt followed the Punisher to his safe house. A half abandoned apartment block that smelled like something had died, been brought back to life, and died again. Matt screwed up his face in disgust. “Nice place you have here,” he said.

“Well I don’t like you enough to take you to a _good_ place,” snorted the Punisher. “Here, sit.”

He gently pushed on Matt’s shoulders, directing him into an old armchair that at least smelled clean. Actually the apartment smelled a hell of a lot better than the rest of the block. The smell of gun oil was in everything, it was slightly sweet. The Punisher put a hand on Matt’s face over the mask. “Can I?” he asked.

Matt nodded and let the material be pushed over his face. The Punisher had something in his hand, Matt guessed what it was. “If that’s a torch I can save you the effort, my eyes won’t respond to light.”

The Punisher griped his chin gently and tilted his head up. “You’re blind?” he said, disbelief colouring his voice.

“Yep,” said Matt, popping the ‘p’ sound.

“I’ve seen you fight, you’re not blind,” argued the Punisher.

Matt just grinned, the Punisher could see his eyes, he let them speak for him. 

“You really are a crazy idiot,” said the Punisher with something akin to wonder in his voice.

Matt wasn’t sure who moved first, but then they were kissing all fierce passion and frustrated violence, a really bad idea that Matt couldn’t stop. 

“What’s your name?” he asked against the Punisher’s mouth when they broke for air. 

“Frank,” said the Punisher, the voice low and rough.

Frank. Franklin. _Foggy_. It seemed like reminders of Foggy were everywhere tonight. “I have to go home,” said Matt pulling away, stepping away. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t what he wanted. This was dragging him further into the dark.

“Got someone at home?” asked the Punisher, Frank, he sounded disappointed but not mad.

Matt nodded. “I hope so,” he said.

“Someone worth fighting for,” said Frank, more to himself than Matt.

Matt left, he walked away, he went back to Foggy.

_“Matt? What’s wrong?” asked Foggy urgently. “Did you hit your head or something?”_

_Matt caught Foggy’s hands and held them still. He grinned at how close Foggy’s guess was. “I’m fine, Foggy. I had a close call. But I promise I’m not hurt. I just wanted to see you.” He just had to say it, take that leap. One day it might be Foggy with the knife against his throat and Matt needed him to know. He was Daredevil after all. Just leap. “I… I love you, okay?”_

_Foggy’s heartbeat sounds worried but there’s a smile in his voice as he replied “Love you too, buddy.”_

_“No,” said Matt shaking his head. “Not like that. I…” And he kisses Foggy. It better than Frank, different, just as much in it but softer, he makes it softer because this is Foggy and he can’t hurt Foggy, he won’t. And Foggy kisses back, Matt can’t quite believe it but he does, like he wants this as much as Matt does. He doesn’t, it would be impossible for Foggy to want to crawl into Matt the way Matt wants to crawl into Foggy. Then as if to prove it Foggy pulls back._

_“What?” asked Foggy sounding lost and dazed._

_Matt swallowed down the fear, “I love you,” he repeated desperately, thinking ‘please don’t leave’ as hard as he could. “I know I’m not good at saying it…”_

_“I know that,” said Foggy stepping back and Matt fights the urge to hang on and hold Foggy still. “I love you too. But… this,” he gestured between them. “You don’t want this. I flirt, you flirt back to a point, and then you shut me down. That’s the way we work.”_

_Matt feels his heart break at the matter of fact way Foggy says that. He’s held Foggy at a distance, to keep him safe. To make sure that Matt doesn’t get him hurt, Matt always seems to hurt people who get too close. But he always thought that deep down Foggy knew just how important he was to Matt. “I want it,” said Matt. “I just… I was… you were always too important to lose. I… I always screw up this part.”_

_“So why now?” asked Foggy. “And don’t tell me it was because of a close call, you’ve had them before.”_

_Foggy’s heartbeat jumped, probably imagining something bad happening to Matt, as if that mattered. Matt had a close call tonight, he experienced what it would be like if Foggy was held at knifepoint. He couldn’t… it was too much to ignore. “I nearly slept with someone tonight,” said Matt dropping his head to hide his face.” It was true he’d wanted to, wanted to be held down by someone just as strong as him. “Someone I don’t really even like and all I could think about was you. All the ways he wasn’t you…” And Matt can’t say anymore, can’t tell Foggy about what happened. He doesn’t want Foggy to know how he nearly beat a man to death just because he’d had an impression that Foggy was the one being hurt. Doesn’t want Foggy to know that part of him. He couldn’t bear Foggy’s disappointment._

_“Do you want to go for dinner some time? With me?” asked Foggy. Like after all this Matt was going to think he meant someone else._

_Matt was suddenly so happy it almost burnt. “Like a date?” he asked._

_“Yeah,” said Foggy. “We could see how it goes, if this is something we both want to try? Tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up about 7?”_

_“Yes,” said Matt quickly in case Foggy came to his senses. “Can I have another kiss now? For the road?” He wanted more, more of Foggy, as much as he could get._

But of course Matt messed it all up. Couldn’t tell Foggy about the bad things, couldn’t keep away from them, and there in the dark was Frank. 

Frank, who couldn’t be corrupted because he was already further in the dark than even Matt. Frank who Matt didn’t have to explain anything to because he never even asked.

Matt was always going to stop; every time was the last one. Because he really did love Foggy, he really wanted it to work. Being with Foggy was perfect; being with Frank was… confession. It purged him, kept the devil away from Foggy.

**

**Today**

Matt was in the midst of a fight when he realised Frank was watching. Three big, dumb, thugs down by the docks, unloading a shipment of guns that Daredevil was determined would never reach the streets. Frank leaned against a nearby container watching. Matt knew he was a little out of control, taking his bad mood out on the bodies in front of him, a bit sloppy, letting too many blows make contact. Even though there was no danger of him actually losing this fight it was hurting all the parties involved more than it needed to. He subdued and knocked unconscious, the men he was fighting. Frank started a slow clap.

“Was that a fight or interpretive dance?” he asked. “Bruised enough yet?”

Matt ignored him, trying up the men with the rope that had been around the crates they were moving.

“If you get yourself killed he’ll never forgive you,” said Frank.

“He’ll never forgive me anyway, he shouldn’t,” said Matt. “Go away.”

“I am,” agreed Frank. “I’m leaving the city. Try not to be an idiot and get yourself killed.”

“Running away?” asked Matt meanly.

“If you like,” shrugged Frank. “There are other places I can work. I find it helps if I keep moving actually. Normally I would have moved on months ago. I guess I stayed for you. I don’t hate you, either of you, and I refuse to be the stick you beat each other with.”

“You’re not,” said Matt. 

“What am I then?” asked Frank. “What the hell are you? What’s Nelson? What is any of this?”

“Over,” said Matt sadly. “It’s all over.”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t think you and Nelson are capable of being over. Don’t die Murdock.”

“You too,” said Matt. “Or else Foggy will be cross.”

“I doubt Nelson would lose any sleep over me,” said Frank as he walked away.

“He doesn’t repeatedly have sex with people he doesn’t care about,” said Matt to Frank’s retreating back. Frank didn’t answer, but there was a stutter in his heartbeat, then he was gone. 

Matt was alone.

One of the men on the ground groaned. Matt stalked away, using the phone one of the men dropped to call the police; they could pick up the guns. Daredevil had other work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh this story was so difficult! Please let me know how my Frank Castle voice was? I'm not sure he was working at all in this story. 
> 
> I have a kind of idea where the rest of this series is going... we shall see...


End file.
